


What's a Soulmate?

by jessthesohodoll



Series: Skinny Love // Berlermo song fits [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I just had a lot of feelings, M/M, Song Lyrics, in my little world Andres it's still alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessthesohodoll/pseuds/jessthesohodoll
Summary: What's a soulmate?It's like a best friend but more..A couple of cute missing scene from Berlin and Palermo at the monastery
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Skinny Love // Berlermo song fits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758472
Kudos: 57





	What's a Soulmate?

_What's a soulmate? It's like a best friend but more_

It was on evenings like these that Martìn felt at peace with the world. A damned meteorite could very well have hit the Tuscan hill on which they were located and he wouldn’t have cared in the least.

Andres was wonderfully drunk. He danced with a glass of Chianti in his hand, in the middle of the small garden inside the monastery, illuminated by the light of the moon and a beautiful starry sky to frame it. The atmosphere was only created by an old Battiato album in the background, which Andrès tried to go after, dancing and singing like never before.

It really seemed tha if the world had stopped there, at that moment, he wasn’t carrying about anything.

The red velvet jacket made him even more handsome than a prince, his cheeks red from the heat of the Tuscan summer and the fumes of the alcohol he was drinking made him sublime to say the least in Martìn's eyes.

"Come on, my friend, dance with me," Andrès said.

He offered him a hand like in a romantic movie, his gaze amused as he waited for his answer. Martin couldn't help but blush, while Andres pulled him from the chair he was sitting on in one motion, pulling him to himself with one arm around his waist. He spun him around, making him even more drunk than he was. He tried to follow his movements as best he could, leaving him the command. He was born to follow him anywhere, in anything, after all.

Martin could not even explain what happened next.

Andres kissed him. A small kiss, which did not last longer than three seconds, but which made Martin's head spin like the best bottle of red wine of his life.

"I don't think I ever told you, my friend," he said in a whisper "I'm glad you're here with me"

Martin knew well that Andres would pretend like nothing happened in the morning. He would have forgotten everything in a day.

Martin no, he was different. He would treasure that moment forever, hoping in his heart that time would stop there, at that moment.

_It's that one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else, it's someone that makes you a better person_

Tatiana was not that bad. Of all Andres' wives, she was perhaps his favorite. She was certainly not his friend, but at least she wasn’t a spoiled stupid bitch like the first two, or she did not try to cut him out of his best friend like the other two

Since Sergio had also arrived at the monastery, the four of them seemed to be a damned happy family. A distorted cornucopia.

Him, the love of his life, his wife and brother.

Martin then tried to distract himself with the plan, informing Sergio of everything there was to know about their little masterpiece.

But that bastard heart of his didn't stop hurting him every time he looked at Andrès and Tatiana for a second too long.

They were having breakfast in the garden, all four of them together. Tatiana was finally distracted by Sergio's insistent questions to look after him.

It was better that way. She had the senseless habit of staring at him, scrutinizing him deeply. As if, in him, he had read some crucial secret, even just looking at his figure.

"Where did you and my brother meet?" Sergio asked. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know his future sister-in-law number five.

"Art Exhibition" said the girl, with a chuckle "He was admiring one of my works and he didn’t stop complimenting me"

"Tatiana is an incredibly talented artist, _Hermano,_ " Andres said, making his future wife blush.

For Martin, She was no better than any other artist he had ever seen. She was certainly not like Andres. Unique, sublime, with a particular style.

"Right that Martin?" Andres then asked, bringing him back to reality "You too have seen Tatiana's works, haven't you?"

"Yes, She is fantastic," said Martin, unconvinced. He hided his face in his cup of coffee.

Andres seemed to stare at him crookedly for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“You haven't eaten the hazelnut pastry, the one you like so much. I took them especially for you "

"Oh," said Martin, barely blushing. He hided his red cheeks again in the cup of coffee "I hadn't seen them"

"Are You okay?" He asked, gently placing a hand on his. He really couldn't hide anything from him.

"Yes, why do you ask me?"

"You're weird," Andres said. "Is everything ok?" Martin just nodded.

He remained silent for the rest of the breakfast, with Sergio and Tatiana talking as if they had always known each other and Andres looking at him, bewildered.

_Actually they don't make you a better person, you do it yourself. Because they inspire you_

The whole plan was like a long love letter to Andres.

Every single detail was an ode to him, to the carefree nights spent drinking and dancing, to that brilliant mind that seemed to complete his in an indissoluble, unique way.

That afternoon seemed like one of many, spent in the sweet doing nothing.

Andres was painting in the small corner of the chapel that he had kept to himself, his attentive gaze as he mixed the colors, a brush in his mouth as he observed the finished work.

Martin gave him an absorbed look from the other side of the chapel.

They were so diametrically opposed in many ways.

Andres lived and breathed art. He was an artist, an esthete, he saw beauty in everything and loved to surround himself with it. Martin was the cynical engineer, the man of science. He was able to spend whole nights filling entire sheets of equations and graphs. The only really beautiful thing for him in this world was Andrès.

He went back to his impossible equations, not really realizing how the other was staring at him.

"Stop, the light is perfect," he said, a dirty brush pointed at him.

"Are you painting me?" Martin asked in surprise.

He had painted practically anyone, even Sergio, but not him.

At least that's what he believed.

Andres gave the last few brush strokes before speaking.

"Now it's over" he said satisfied "And for once I would appreciate your honest opinion, my friend"

The painting depicted him while concentrating on the sheet, his typical frowning expression while holding the pencil between his lips. It had something ethereal, magical. He didn't seem like him either, he could hardly recognize himself.

"Andres it’s beautiful," he said with a sigh, and then added "You have never painted me before"

Andres chuckled before answering

"This is where you are wrong Martin" he said "I have done it countless times"

From the first drawer of his desk he pulled a sketchbook, with a precious leather cover, the one he always had with him.

They were full of sketches that portrayed him in various positions, at various times of the day.

Martin stroked the rough paper with his index finger before Andres went back to talking.

"The rest of the canvases are in the closet," he said slyly.

Martin then opened the door that he was pointing to him with trepidation. There were at least a dozen of them.

Some were simple developments of the sketches he had just seen. Others were totally new.

Like the one he held in his hand, for example, where he was dancing absorbed with a bottle of wine in his hand, in the middle of the courtyard.

"I do some of them while you're not watching," Andres said. A pair of long arms wrapped around his waist and Martin couldn't help but shivering. “I draw the others by heart. You are a beautiful inspiration for me, Martin "

"Can I keep it?" Martin then asked impetuously.

"Only if you promise to keep it with you forever, Martin," Andres said.

The Spaniard shouldn't have asked twice. He already knew that his friend would keep it with him forever, as the best of treasures.

_A Soulmate it's someone you carry with you forever. It's that one person who knew you and accepted you before anyone else did, or anyone else would._

It never happened that Andres defended him in that way. Above all, it never happened with Sergio.

His beloved little brother was literally untouchable for him.

By now, after years spent in his company, Martin was used to Sergio's scornful comments. On the other hand, _"The Professor_ " seemed to be totally tactless at times.

Martin was convinced that he did it on purpose, only to tease him. He was incredibly smart, of course, but totally lacking in interpersonal relationships skills.

He pulled his thick-rimmed glasses up to his nose before speaking. You could already see what he was thinking.

They had been working for hours, by now he had forced him to redo the same damned equation a dozen times and at each time he was getting increasingly angry.

"No, it can't be like that" he kept saying "It shouldn't be like this"

It was a constant struggle between the two, with Andres pulled in the middle, openly on neither side.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Martin said, frowning.

"You have to do it again," Sergio said instead.

"Sure _amigo_ " said Martin “it's only the tenth time that I do it again"

Sergio clenched his jaw before turning to his brother.

"Can I talk to you?" he said, barely raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, I'm all ears," Andres said, imperturbable as always.

"In private," added Sergio.

"I'm sure, whatever it is, Martin also has the right to know _Hermano_ " was the only answer he got.

Sergio stared first at him, then at Martin, then at the large piece of paper in front of them, before speaking.

"I can't work like that," he said sighing "It's not correct, and you know it too Martin"

"The only thing I know is that this part of the plan was conceived by Martin, a graduate engineer with honors," said Andres, barely raising his voice "If he says that this equation is right, I will trust him. You should learn to do it too”

Martin couldn't help but blush. He certainly did not expect Andres to choose a side, let alone his.

Sergio stared at him for a long time before speaking.

"Okay," he said, resignedly, "Do as you like. I warned you "

Martin enjoyed that personal victory for a while, the wide smile that Andres gave him as the most coveted prize.

_And no matters you will always love them. Nothing will ever change that_

It was Andres' fifth wedding, the third one that Martin had had to attend. Indeed, he was even the best man.

Every single time, every year that passed, he was increasingly trying to tell him that no, he wasn’t a masochist.

But then Andres smiled at him. He told him how he couldn't do it without him, or how Tatiana wanted him too and had to give it up. Once again.

Wine, unfortunately or fortunately, helps. It always helps.

A couple of glasses were enough for him to loosen his grip, to lift his spirit.

And, for whatever reason, he already knew that Tatiana hadn’t a lot of time left.

She and Andres had known each other for three long months, some of his marriages had lasted less. Martin was still giving her a couple of weeks, a month at most, before Andres cheated on her with someone else, or she realized what he really was.

For the moment they were dancing tight in the middle of the monastery courtyard. This little consolation, however, was not enough for Martin to calm his heart, which did not stop breaking.

And so, broken as always, he got up from his chair, casting a fleeting glance at Sergio next to him. He certainly didn't want him to see him cry.

He crawled against Andres's back, smiling mellifluously to Tatiana from behind his shoulder.

"You having fun, here? ” he said.

In all respects, Tatiana laughed. Andres, however, moved away from her for a moment, raised a hand to his lips and sent him a kiss.

It didn't matter what would happen. Andrea would come back to him, with a broken heart, a few weeks later and he would have be the one to collect the pieces. But he loved him so much that it would have been enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO IS BACK?
> 
> Due to various vicissitudes, I stopped writing for a while. I was no longer stimulated as before.
> 
> At least until my beloved sister and I have decided to start La Casa de Paper (La Casa di Carta for us Italians, Money Heist for the rest of the world) 
> 
> Obviously, could I not ship Berlermo?
> 
> I now live in a wonderful parallel universe where Andrés de Fonollosa is still alive, happily Bi and in love with Martin Berrote. Or Berlin and Palermo, as you prefer.
> 
> I think a little bit all OTPs have an edit with this audio right? I think it's from Dawson Creek, but I'm not sure
> 
> What about me? Did you missed me?
> 
> A kiss  
> Jess


End file.
